Run For Cover, The 72nd Hunger Games
by RavenclawCookie
Summary: Our female Tribute from District Eight is launched into the world of the Hunger Games, unexpectedly and completely unprepared. How will she cope in the arena? And what fate lies before her in the Games? Let the 72nd Hunger Games begin!
1. Chosen

_Hi guys!_

_So this is the first chapter of my 72nd Hunger Games story! I hope you enjoy and please review, I want to know what you think! _

_This chapter is only a short one, but the next will definately be longer!_

_I do not own any of the characters in the Hunger Games except my own. _

_This story is dedicated to my good friend Ellie. (Peeta_Forever - Twitter)  
><em>

_Enjoy!_

_RavenclawCookie_

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><p>We stand in lines upon the parched cobblestones in District 8 - my home, the home I fear I will be leaving soon. My heart thuds so rapidly in my chest I swear the other kids around me can hear it. Then, all of sudden, they're all looking at me. Each and every eye is upon me and my face begins to burn with embarrassment. Why are they looking-? And then suddenly, a numb feeling spreads through my body like poison from a viper's sting. My knees grow weak and my saliva clots in my throat. No...it can't be me.<p>

Then I realise I am being called up towards the stage. My head snaps forward and I force my legs to carry me towards the stairs leading to the stage.

"Come up here, dear!" My legs tremble violently as I walk, my hands clutching the hand-sewn dress I designed especially for the occasion. The Reaping - a time we all dread more than anything in District 8. In the Career Districts (such as District 1,2 and 4) they see being selected to be dropped into an arena to fight to the death as an honour to their District and the Capitol. But we don't think like that in District 8. Not at all.

Someone is pulling me towards the centre of the stage, but to who it is, I am unaware.

"Let's give it up for your female Tribute - Elly Finlie!" There is a round of quiet applause, but as I look out to the sea of faces before me, I see nothing but remorse. They all know what fate lies before me. I search among those faces for my family, but they are no-where to be seen.

"Now for our male Tribute!" Our bubbly Capitol host trills happily. She toddles over to the large glass ball which holds thousands of paper slips. She reaches into the container, her lightly-tinted funchisa hand searching for it's unsuspecting prey. "Cornelius Twig!" I see a tall, lean boy -surely he's eighteen?- march forward, a vunerable and obviously-fake look of terror upon his face. I can see him fighting not to smile. He obviously isn't a very good actor. I know him, though. His face triggers an unrequitable sense of De Ja Vu in my mind and his name rings a bell of familiarity. I've seen him somewhere before, I am certain.

But I don't have time to think about it because before I know it, I am being shoved into a door behind me. A formidable-looking Peacekeeper grasps my arm and leads me down the corridor of a neatly-polished building, much unlike the houses and streets we District 8 citizens live in. He pushes me into a room and I collapse into a chair as the door snaps shut behind me.

I know I stand no chance. The Hunger Games have always chilled me to the bone - year after year I have watched innocent children be brutally murdered before the eyes of millions. Now I realise that I will be one of those to fall.

The door flies open and my mother and sisters are rushing up to me, hugging me, comforting me, tears of grief and sadness rolling down their cheeks. But I am feeling too numb to do more than stare at the floor. I am almost thankful when the Peacekeeper arrives to take them away. At least it makes it more bearable for me to leave with a short and bitter-sweet farewell.

* * *

><p>I step lighty onto the sleek and shiny Capitol train, stationary in it's perch on the tracks, Cornelius at my heels. I can feel his excitement buzzing around me, but my numbness seems to be fending it off.<p>

I am surprised by what I see before me - the train cart is luxuriant - it is lined with velvett (a material of extreme rarity in District 8) and huge carts of food are laid out for us. I drop into a seat beside the window, wonderment in my eyes as I gaze around the cart. Some of my numbness is beginning to ebb away, but as I watch my District fade into a mere dot in the distance, it returns with biting vengeance.

Our mentor is eager to inform myself and Cornelius of strategic skills that he thinks will be useful in the Games. I barely listen, just twirl my finger round one of my chocolate-brown locks. What's the point? Even with all of this supposedly handy advice, almost all of our Tributes seem to drop like flies before they've even reached the Cornucopia.

Cornelius, however, seems positively brimming with excitement, hanging upon every word our Mentor won the Games ten years ago and has sleek black hair that falls in front of his eyes. I remember him vaguely, although I was merely five years old at the time. I have been admitted into the Games at fifteen and I doubt I'll live to see my sixteenth birthday.

Cornelius attempts to make small-talk with me when our Mentor (who I realise is called Kristov) announces he is going to find some food. I glance at him so often, his floppy blond falling in front of his bronze eyes as he talks excitedly about the upcoming Games. I reply with a few dull nods and one-word answers before retreating to my bedroom.

I flop onto my bed and the tears come flooding down my cheeks before I can stop them. I think of my family, my sisters and how they will have to watch me die and live every day of their lives in the sewing factory reliving my death in their heads.I know it's over before it's even begun.

I fall asleep, my eyes sore and throbbing from crying. The sun is rising already and our Capitol Chauffeur, Serpentia (the one with the fuchisa skin) is pounding upon my door with her chubby fist. I slouch out of the door and have a quick breakfast, deciding against listening to Kristov rabble on about his triumph in the Hunger Games and return to my bedroom. I stay there for the whole day except to eat.

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><p>The train slows and I yank open the door of my bedroom as the cries of euphoric Capitol citizens fill my ears. I rush to the window, to find Cornelius already there, waving cockily to the baying crowd. I watch, my brow furrowed.<p>

What game is he playing?

* * *

><p>The Chariots.<p>

I step into the strong metal carriage, hitching my beautifully-embroidered dress (threaded with millions of hand-sewn beads) up to my ankles as I jump onto the cart. I smile for the first time in days as my Stylist -Eddard- swats my hand away playfully.

"Let the dress FLOW." He says brightly, his emerald eyes glimmering with excitement. My own Hazel ones lock with his and I feel myself becoming instantly calm. "Just relax and enjoy yourself, Elly." He says soothingly. "You look beautiful." I grin sheepishly, Cornelius hopping in beside me wearing a suit of the same theme, but with different colours embroidered into the silken fabric. We sparkle like a cluster of stars as the Chariot rolls forward and the Capitol anthem blares into the arena. We are the glimmering remnants of a dying supernova.

We have by far been outshone by some of the extravagant outfits modelled by other Districts. The Tributes of District 7 - a handsome black-haired boy with a chiselled face and a tiny girl no older than fourteen - look striking with vines and leaves twisted round their slender bodies, representing the trees they cut down in their District of Lumber.

I spot the Tributes of District 4 (a small girl with flowing sunshine-yellow hair and a boy with shocking red locks) looking stunning in silver gowns with shimmering sequins that resemble the scales of fish and actually ripple in waves when they move.

We have clearly been outshone, but I still think we look radiant, and as we roll out into the large stadium, it is clear that the crowd thinks so, too. I hear hearty cries of "District Eight!" and various whoops and cheers. I return their cries with one of the first genuine smiles to cross my lips in days. Cornelius is standing beside me, punching his fist in the air. He is a crowd pleaser, for sure. The crowd adore him, and he them. The feeling of affection is mutual. The chariot circles the crowd and I glance behind me at the District 9 Tributes, who look quite honestly, embarrassed to be here. They give a few shy waves, but mainly keep their heads bowed towards the floor. I return my gaze to the front, just as we are disappearing from the view of the crowd. My cheeks are hurting from smiling and I hop quickly off the chariot along with Cornelius, who is bubbling with excitement.

"Can you believe that?" He cries, grinning at me. "That was amazing!" I can't help but grin back. The feeling of riding in that cart to the cries of the bating crowd is exhilarating...but I have to remind myself that they are all there to watch me die. It is a thought that sickens me to my very stomach and my smile is wiped quickly from my face.

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><p><em>I hope you enjoyed!<em>

_Chapter 2 will be coming very soon!_

_RavenclawCookie_


	2. Training

_Hi guys!_

_So here is Chapter 2 of my Hunger Games fic, I hope you enjoy this one and the previous one!_

_Please review, I always enjoy hearing what you have to say about my stories._

_As always, I do not own the Hunger Games or it's characters. _

_Enjoy!_

_RavenclawCookie_

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><p>That night I sleep well, the smiling faces of Capitol citizens imprinted on the insides of my eyelids. When the gloom of another morning in the Capitol arrives, an audible groan escapes my lips as Serpentia taps lightly upon the door.<p>

"Up, up, up!" she cries, her voice painfully shrill so early in the is just when I yank open the door of my bed chamber that I realise that today is the day that we enter the Training Centre in preparation for the Games. My stomach churns sickeningly. I battle with the powerful urge to vomit at the thought of being in alone in a room with the Gamemakers watching my every move, judging every step I take...

I avoid breakfast and my fellow Tribute, Cornelius. I have to admire his determination, but I can't help but feel awkward in his presence. I certainly don't feel the same excitement he does.

Serpentia and Kristov lecture us individually on what we may be challenged with when we enter the Training Centre - what kinds of stations will be set up for us to visit. We agree to show off, but not to our full ability.

"Save your best for your individual meetings with the Gamemakers." Kristov says, grinning at me encouragingly. I return nothing but a weak smile, and even that is a stretch.

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><p>Atala, the Head Trainer begins speaking, my eyes dart round quickly at my fellow Tributes. I see several boys who are so beefy I swear they are about to burst out of their shirts. They must be at least eighteen. Cornelius is the same age chronologically, but physically, he might as well be my age compared to them. The boy with cropped chestnut hair and eyes that resemble molten gold from District 2 (his name is Jaspar, as I am told) shoots us a terrifying glare which I flinch away from. Cornelius returns his gaze unflinchingly. I admire his courage. If he messes with Jaspar, he'll be dead within a minute.<p>

The others are moving around me and I skip over to the archery section. I am fast and reach the post first, before any of the Career Tributes manage to do so. Cornelius trails behind me. I cast a glance over my shoulder at him, but his eyes are elsewhere, to the rack of knives at the far side of the room. I can see he is itching to get his hands on one. I grab the cool metal bow from the rack, the sleek surface feels right in the palm of my hand. I turn back to Cornelius, who is quivering upon the balls of his feet. "It's okay," I tell him, and his attention snaps back to me. "We don't have to stick together all of the time. Kristov didn't say we had too. You can go over to the knives."

A grateful smile forms upon his face, "Thanks." he replies, before skipping over to his precious weapons.

I load a silver arrow into my bow, trying my very best to keep my hands as steady as possible. I draw back the string of my bow up to my eye, lining up my arrow with the heart of the dummy straight ahead of me. My fingers let their tension slip, the string sliding from my grasp. The arrow hits the dummy's hand. Well, at least if I were in the arena I would have severed a few fingers. I smile to myself, proud of my first attempt.

I look around me, checking out a few of my other components. The brute of a boy from District 11 is poring over the rack of maces in the corner, whilst District 11's female Tribute (Magenta - I remember her name because it reminds me oddly of Serpentia's skin) ties knots with one of the Trainers. I decide I'll join her.

As I head towards the knot-tying station, I feel my body slam against the sturdy form of another being. I stumble, trying my best to regain balance before I feel the hand wrap itself around my wrist. I look up into the face of Felix Lonair, the boy from District 7 who looked so stunning wrapped in vines during the Chariot parade the previous night. He is already popular with Capitol citizens. And I can see why - he is beautiful. I know he has already stolen the hearts of an unnameable amount of girls. He can't be more than a year or so older than I am. 17 at the most.

"Sorry, I'm such a clutz." He says, rolling his eyes jokingly. I flush beetroot red.

_Keep calm, Elly._ I think. _This boy will probably be the one to kill you in the next few days._ But somehow, this doesn't seem right. The look in those onyx eyes show a sense of innocence I cannot place. He's not a killer. Or at least, I think not. He may have just taken some acting classes, however. Very good ones, in that case.

"Oh...it's okay. My fault." I blurt out.

He laughs softly. "I saw you firing that arrow, not bad for a first shot." He says.

My eyes widen. "How did you know it was my first?" I ask, incredulous.

He shrugs. "I can't imagine you sew with many arrows in District Eight." I feel a smile playing about my lips but fight it down, forcing the corners of my mouth to remain flat.

"See you in the arena." He says with a dry humour that relaxes me slightly, despite the clear meaning behind his words.

I walk over to Magenta, who is still tying and untying the perfect knots she creates. The Trainer doesn't even have to help her. He just stands back and admires her fantastic work.

"Hi," I say softly. She looks up, her face impassive. She returns to her work. "Mind if I tie some knots with you?" I ask hopefully, unfazed by her lack of shrugs her thin, bony shoulders. I drop to my knees beside her and grab the line of rope the trainer offers me. I watch her carefully and try to replicate her techniques but fail dismally. Her pale green eyes (like the finest Peridot) glimmer with concentration as she ties a particularly complicated knot. She remains unresponsive, her dark hair falling in front of those striking eyes. She is practically oblivious to my presence. I drop my piece of rope and move to another station.

* * *

><p>Knives. I see Cornelius has moved onto another station, as he is nowhere to be seen, instead, I see the blonde girl from Four gathering up some particularly sharp-looking knives. Her pale skin shines in from the blaring lights above our heads. I walk over to her timidly. She seems to feel my presence before she sees me. She turns on her heel and gives me a smile. I breathe. It comforts me.<p>

"Hey, Eight." She says, selecting one of the knives and raising her arm, ready to strike.

"Hi, Four." I reply with a smile. I watch with interest as she hurls the knife at the target. The blade sinks into the dummy's forearm. Not what you would call a perfect. She smirks. We seem to have both been thinking the same thing.

"I'm better with a trident." She admits with a small chuckle, "Knives aren't really my thing." She's from District Four. A trident would naturally be her weapon of choice, since it is the Fishing District.

"Mind if I try?" I ask tentatively.

"Sure," She says brightly, pressing the handle of a knife into the palm of my hand. I line the blade up with the target carefully, before flinging it at the dummy. It sticks straight into it's shoulder. The girl from Four is nodding.

She flicks her sunny hair from her aquamarine eyes. "Not bad, Eight." She grins. "I think we both caused quite serious injuries, there." She says humorously. I laugh. She appears nice enough, but I am still careful. This bubbly aura could be sharade.

"What's your name?" She asks, cocking her head to one side.

"Elly," I say, my voice lacking in emotion. She holds out a steady hand for me to shake, but I decline, my arms remaining by my sides.

"Well, Elly," She replies, letting her hand swing back to her side. "I'm Danii Bucklebee. It's nice to meet you."

The signs of a smile twists my lips. "Nice to meet you too, Danii." I say, thinking how sad it will be when we both perish in the arena. We're both small. She can't be more than sixteen. But her lack in size could mean she may be far younger. "Well, I guess I'll see you in the arena." I say.

She chuckles, a sound that is somehow dull and flat. "See you then."

I hop across the room to the spears. I might as well give them a try. I slide the silver strip of metal out of the rack. I arch it carefully over my shoulder, it's dangerously sharp point aimed directly at the dummy's heart. I launch the spear into the air with all my might. It flies through the air and slams into the dummy's forehead. My mouth opens in a mingle of shock and smug happiness. It wasn't the heart, but at least it was a valuable place on the body.

The bell for lunch time sounds, making me and half of the other Tributes jump out of their skin. I trot towards the door, looking wildly around me for any signs of Cornelius. Finally, I manage to catch sight of his golden locks and hurry over to him.

"Hey," I say, my mood having brightened since training began. I was rather proud of my shabby weaponry skills.

"Hey." He replies, giving me a brief smile. Despite his strategic methods he has played before the games have even begun, I feel as if he is the only person in this room I can trust.

For now.

We settle down at a table, having selected several rather appetising-looking dishes and loaded them onto our plates. I drop a dollop of mashed potatoes onto my plate and some bread that looks so delicious my mouth begins to water. I might as well eat as much as I can before my imminent death.

We never have this amount of food back home in District 8, so I stick to the sort of things we have to live by. Except this time, I can pile as much as I want to upon my plate.

At lunch, I chat lightly to Cornelius about how I've progressed with the weapons on offer in the training centre. He smiles, bragging about how he hit each and every target with the knives. I grit my teeth and smile back. I hold my Tongue instead of informing him that each of the Careers probably did too.

I catch sight of Danii a few tables away, chatting heartily to the skinny red-haired boy from her District. She's animated as she imitates pulling back the slender arch of a bow. The red-haired boy, who looks younger than she is, chuckles happily. I can see they are making the most of the time they have left.

Danii is called in to the Training Centre for her private session with the Gamemakers, I can see the light bubbly smile has vanished from her face and a look of deadly seriousness has replaced it. My heart hammers in my chest as I watch her go. It won't be long until it's my turn to be called.

Cornelius is looking shaky, his pallid face that of a sombre spirit's. It is clear that he wants to pull this off. Of course he does. We all do; everyone wants a good score.

The Tributes from District 5 and 6 are called up in turn and images of myself fumbling with the bow and arrow flash through my mind. The arrow soars past the target, not even brushing the sides. The Gamemakers are laughing and...

"Elly Finlie." A metallic robotic voice calls. My breath catches in my throat. I rise to my feet, my legs threatening to buckle beneath me as I walk down the corridor, my hands balled into fists. My fingernails are digging deep into my palms, but I am oblivious to the pain. The dull ache in my stomach is the only thing I feel as push open the door.

My eyes seek out the Gamemakers, seated in the high benches, perched on a balcony above. They are feasting ravenously on various Capitol dishes and chatting lazily to each other. I step out onto the centre of the floor, directly before them.

"Elly Finlie, District 8." I croak, my voice barely even a whisper. It's a wonder how they even hear me. I trot over to the rack of bows in the corner, snatching one into my hands and keeping a firm grip on it. I do not want my fantasy to become a reality.

I select a nifty feather-light arrow from the rack and line it up in my bow. My hands are shaking violently, it's a wonder how I don't drop the blessed thing. I draw back the bow to my eye level and release the arrow with a force, sending it shooting through the air. I close my eyes for a brief second, fearing the worst when I hear the thud of metal on wood.

I hit the target.

My eyes fly open and I am delighted by what I see. The arrow may not have hit the dummy's heart but the cylinder of metal is jutting out of the dummy's forehead. At least I would have caused someone brain-damage if that had been a Tribute. I smile, shooting a few more arrows at the target, becoming more and more confident with every draw-back of my bow.

I skip over to the spears (an area which I am not so confident in) and miss a few times before finally skewering the dummy through the stomach. I hear a voice behind me, whirling round, I see one of the Gamemakers has risen from his seat.

"Thank you, you are now dismissed." I nod solemnly, before rushing out of the room, my heart pumping with adrenaline. I think of all those misses with the spears...will I have jeperdized my score by changing my station? I nibble on my nails, poring over this one single possibility at dinner. Cornelius is looking pleased with himself, the colour having returned to his cheeks now. They are positively rosy. Kristov makes a point of asking us both how it went.

I shrug in reply. "It could have been better." I sigh softy. I wish I hadn't have used those spears on that target! I wonder just how poor and unimpressive that looked after me hitting that dummy squarely in the forehead with that arrow.

Cornelius is brimming with eagerness to tell the tale of his private session with the Gamemakers."I hit every single one of those targets with those knives!" He says, ripping off a chunk of bread with his teeth. "And I wasn't too bad with the spears either!" He continues through a mouthful of bread, spraying crumbs everywhere. He may be the only person in this competition I can trust at the moment, but right now, I sincerely hope he chokes on his bread.

* * *

><p>We gather round the TV as the scores are announced. I twiddle my thumbs anxiously, gnawing on my lip worriedly. The District 1 Tributes - Lemmy and Aqua- both secure very respectable nines. <em>More than l'll get<em>, a whiny little voice in my head whispers irritably.

Jaspar (the formidable brute from District 2) acquires a stunning score of eleven. I let out a sigh. Cornelius has some real competition.

Danii, the girl from District 4 receives an eight. I smile, hoping a trident was present for her to impress the Gamemakers with. Her partner, The boy with the crimson hair, receives less-impressive six. 

_Still, that 's better than you'll get,_ the voice in my head chuckles mockingly. I try my very best to ignore it.

Felix Lonair receives a nine. I'm sure his admirers here in the wealth of the Capitol will be positively squealing with happiness at this news.

Then, Cornelius' score is revealed. It's a ten. Kristov and Serpentia cheer and pat him on the back. He grins smugly, sinking back in his chair, basking in the applause.

It's my turn. My palms are damp and clammy as Caesar Flickerman begins reading out my name. Then the number eight is flashing on the screen before my very eyes.

Eight!

That's more than I could have hoped for! My eyes light up, and I barely notice the scores of the other Tributes. I just manage to catch the District 11 Tribute's scores between the warm words of praise Eddard is giving me. The burly boy from 11 - His name appears on the screen as Drexel - receives a nine, whilst his companion Magenta, the silent and intelligent dark-haired girl I met in the Training Centre receives a six.

Our glasses collided with a light 'clink' before myself, Cornelius and the others take sips in between friendly conversation, congratulating each other.

Later I sink onto my bed, enveloped in the silk covers, the smooth material running through my fingers like liquid. In minutes, I am asleep.


	3. Appealing

_Hey guys!_

_So this is the third chapter of my Hunger Games fanfic, and as always, I don;t own any of the characters in The Hunger Games except my own._

_Please read and review, I always enjoy your comments!_

_RavenclawCookie_

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><p>My interview.<p>

Something I have been dreading since the moment my name was called at the Reaping. After talking with my Mentor, Kristov during the day, having already been prepped by Serpentia to appear presentable in front of an audience, I have decided to appear cool and casual for my interview, with a light intersperse of humour. I hope this will get me some sponsors.

Eddard dresses me for the occasion. I am dressed in an orange gown embossed with golden thread which twists up and down my arms. It looks as if I have just stepped out of one of the sewing factories back home. Even my hair has been tied with strips of wool. They hang from my hair, brushing my shoulders, tickling the nape of my neck. Throughout the night of the Interviews, Caesar Flickerman does his best to keep the audience entertained, cracking jokes, making the Tributes feel as welcome as possible, especially those who appear more nervous. He sports an emerald-green bouffant wig, his eyelids dusted in the same is cunning and sly, clearly unperturbed by the gawping audience sat before him.

The beautiful girl from District 3, Vanity, is sickly sweet in a salmon-pink tutu-like dress.

Danii is a comedy genius on that stage. She has Caesar clutching his sides, the audience roaring with laughter. I even find myself laughing at her humorous puns.

Felix is smooth and sexy, occasionally pushing back the hair from his deep soulful eyes, and when asked by Caesar whether he has a special girl back home in District 7, he replies with a sultry "I'm still looking for that special someone.". I hear several girls in the crowd squeal.

Then it is my turn. My heart flutters against my ribcage like a trapped bird. Caesar Flickerman is calling my name. The booming roar of the crowd fills my ears as I am introduced. I rise from my seat amongst the other Tributes. The blaring lights of the Capitol almost blind me as I stumble over to the centre stage. Caesar, dressed in a stunning sparkling suit pulls me over to the seats in the middle of the elevated flooring. I hitch up my dress so as not to trip over the hem. The last of the crowd's enthusiasm dies down as I take my seat simultaneously with Caesar. He is beaming at me and I smile back, my breath getting caught in my throat. Perhaps the plan to act cool and casual wasn't so good after all. Will I be able to pull it off?

"Welcome, Elly, welcome! Now, Elly, you received an eight in training." Caesar begins cheerfully, "Not a bad score for someone so young."

My words are stuck in my throat momentarily. "Well, I just hoped I wouldn't die of fright in that Training Centre." I blurt out. The audience chuckles warmly.

"Is it really that scary?" Caesar presses on, smiling his dazzling smile.

"Definitely." I say, a smile curving the corners of my mouth upward. My heart rate slows, and I become more relaxed.

"I can imagine so," Caesar nods, smiling. "So, how are you finding the Capitol so far?" He asks merrily.

"Amazing," I lie, flashing a smile at the audience. I would much rather be back home in District 8 with my sisters. "I could barely believe my eyes when I arrived here on the train."

"How different is it to your home in District 8?" He questions, his eye shadow glimmering in the light.

"Well, there certainly isn't as much cotton everywhere!" I say. The crowd nod, laughing enthusiastically.

"So, how do you think you'll fare in the arena? What are you good at that will keep you alive?" Caesar says, his tone deepening, taking on a brand new seriousness. It unnerves me somewhat.

"Well, you'd better watch out if your face to face with me and a needle. I might just sew you to death." I say casually as possible, brushing back the chocolate curls from my face. The crowd breaks out in ripples of laughter. I beam back at them all, giving them my most winning smile.

"We'll be sure to watch out for you, Elly." Caesar grins. "Now, I have one last question for you: your family; how are you going to ensure that you make them proud in that arena?" He asks, a solemn expression on his face. His eyes full are of concern.

I swallow hard, trying my best to rid my mind of my sisters. I can feel the tears pricking my eyes and I fight to keep them from falling. "I'll try and win. I'll try and win for them. Make my District proud." I say. The crowd explodes and roars in appreciation. Caesar is nodding and grabs my hand. He pulls me to my feet.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the lovely Elly Finlie from District 8!" He cries.

The crowd go wild. I beam at them, waving frantically before I skip offstage, my heart thudding with adrenaline. I pass Cornelius as he swaggers on stage. I roll my eyes, shaking my head at his boisterousness. I take my seat beside Felix. He gives me a wink and I find my cheeks flowing with heat. I surprise myself by returning his wink with my own.

From the side, I watch Cornelius jittering with excitement in his seat. The crowd adore him. He recounts old anecdotes of his, resulting with Caesar in stitches. The crowd are cheering his name by the end of the interview, and he pumps his fist in the air like he did on the night of the chariots. He drops into his seat beside me, still waving occasionally to the crowd.

I know he's one to watch. He'll have no trouble gaining sponsors. But what does it matter? I'm going to die anyway…

Later, Eddard sprints up to me, throwing his skin arms around me. "Elly, darling, that was wonderful." He says, batting his emerald eyelashes at me. "Truly fantastic."

"Thanks, Ed." I say, my cheeks aching as I smile at him. I have smiled far too much tonight. He slips an arm around my shoulder, dragging me towards the lift of the Tribute building. My arms and legs ache with tiredness. The stress of the interview has drained me of all the energy I possess. I bid Eddard and the others goodnight before I retreat to my bedroom once more. I strip off my dress before hanging it carefully on my wardrobe door. I smooth down the embroidered fabric, tracing the intricate threads with my fingers. It feels wonderful on my skin. I jump into bed and it hits me - tomorrow is the day I enter the arena. My stomach does somersaults and I think for a moment I'm going to vomit but I fight it he feeling down…_Don't be weak, _I tell myself, squeezing my eyes shut as I burrow beneath the covers. _You just need a bow and arrow, and you'll be fine._ But what if there isn't a bow on arrow at the Cornucopia? I force this thought from my mind. I can't worry about it now. I'll have plenty of time for that tomorrow.

That night, insomnia haunts me. I lie awake, tossing and turning amongst the silk covers, my hair strewn over my face, delving in and out of consciousness. Before I know it, the sun is rising in the sky it's dim early morning light falling across my bed. My hands are shaking as I drag a brush through my hair. I tie my hair in a knot before pinning it back in a bun scraped against my head. My knees knock violently as I walk over to the door, but as I reach out to turn the handle, Eddard enters. I am surprised to see him. He wraps his arms around me and I bury myself in the warm fabric of his colourful jumper. He releases me before pushing back a strand of hair from my face. He guides me to the roof. I have never been there before, but as I look down upon the Capitol, my breath is taken away. I do not have much time to draw on it, though, because a hovercraft appears over our heads. A rope ladder tumbles and falls to my feet. I glance over my shoulder at Eddard, seeking reassurance. He gives me a consoling nod and I grab the ladder with a stiffness so great that my knuckles turn white. As I enter the craft, a woman approaches me with a deadly-looking syringe in her hands. I begin to back away but Eddard stops me, his warmth comforts me for a moment and I begin to calm down.

"Elly, don't worry. It's just your tracker." He says softly.

I nod, offering the woman my arm shakily. She pushes the plunger, the paper-thin needle puncturing my skin. I wince as the woman draws the needle out of my arm. Eddard smiles sympathetically at me, pushing my gently to the breakfast bar, which has been laid out especially for me. A pair of Avoxes - tongue-less criminals enslaved to the Capitol as payback for their crimes - stand by in order to serve me. I feel like passing on breakfast altogether, but Eddard urges me to eat something, so I nibble on some bread, trying my best to ignore the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I clutch Eddard's hand as the aircraft lands. My head spins and I close my eyes, fighting back the urge to vomit once more. The feeling passes as I am chaperoned into a room a bare room with nothing but a large cylindrical tube in the centre and the outfit I will be wearing for the Games hanging upon a rack.

I pull on the thermal jumper and jacket. I slip on the extra-strength boots specially designed to keep out the cold, Eddard informs me. My heart beat intensifies as Eddard pulls me towards the silver disc in the centre. He raises my chin in his hand and I look into those warm emerald eyes that shine with reassurance.

"Elly, you'll be okay. If you see anything available at the Cornucopia, grab it. If not, run. Find some water and get as far away as possible." He says sternly.

I nod, my chest rising and falling heavily.

I shuffle into the cylinder, hopping onto the raised platform.

Ten seconds.

I clench my fists, my nails digging into my skin, sinking deep into my flesh. Eddard takes my hand in his own, smoothing out the lines on my palm. The door of the cylinder slides shut, cutting us off. He steps back and I look into his eyes for what I fear will be the last time as the metallic desk begins to move upward. The dark ceiling above me opens and a blinding light hits me. My eyes shrink to slits as I attempt to take in my surroundings. The protective glass disappears, dropping into the floor beneath me.

It is then when the biting cold hits me.

The light clears and my surroundings morph around me. My heart skips a beat.

A frozen wasteland. That is what envelops me in this arena. Traps me in this world I cannot escape. The Cornucopia - a great golden horn sprouting out of the ground in the centre of the arena - glistens in the winter sunlight above us. The ground is covered in a blanket of soft snow. Trees close us in on either side. Leafless, bare, their branches gnarled and twisted.

My eyes dart to the other Tributes lined up on plates beside me. I catch a glimpse of Danii a few metres away - her eyes have found the large trident among the supplies littered at the mouth of the Cornucopia. That's when I see it. The marvellous silver bow propped up against the pile of backpacks. I prepare myself to run, making sure not to step off that platform before the sixty seconds are up. Otherwise it will be over before it's even begun.

It was anyway, wasn't it?

The gong sounds. My sixty seconds are up. I launch myself off the platform, my foot plunging into the thick layer of snow at my feet. I kick away the snow, sprinting as far and fast as my legs will carry me. There is a flurry as the other Tributes streak past me. I catch a flash off blonde and I know it's Danii.

I am almost there. Almost at the Cornucopia. My hands reach out for the bow and quiver of arrows merely inches away…

When a flash of silver breaks the air around me and the blade soars past my ear.


	4. Fighting

_Hi guys! _

_So this is Chapter Four of my Hunger Games fanfic._

_As always, I do not own The Hunger Games or it's characters except my own._

_I hope you enjoy reading, please review!_

_Enjoy!_

_RavenclawCookie_

* * *

><p>I whirl round, and lean back just in time as a second knife grazes my throat. It smashes into the Cornucopia behind with a metallic clang.<br>I grab the arrows and bow and hitch them securely over my shoulder. I break into a run, my eyes flickering to the bodies of Tributes strewn over the ground.  
>How many have already perished?<p>

I feel fingers close around my arm in a tight grasp and I tumble to the ground, my face sinking into the violently cold snow. It is in my nose, my ears, the cold digging into every orifice on my body. I flip over, seeking blindly for my attacker. I lash out, trying to kick him off me, but the brute is too huge. My bow and arrow are pressed behind my back. They are useless.  
>I wipe the snow from my eyes just in time to see the boy raise a huge sword, it's point hovering directly above my chest. I close my eyes. This is it. This is the end. I wait for the darkness to engulf me and then...<br>The boy lets out a strangled cry. My eyes fly open and they are drawn to the spires of a golden trident protruding from his chest. The sword slips from his hand, becoming lost in the snow. He sways for a moment, his eyes glazing over, unfocused. Then, he tumbles to the floor, limp, lifeless.

Danii Bucklebee is standing over me, wielding a golden trident in one hand. She gives me a smile.  
>"He's just like all the other fish in District 4 that need catching." She says, twirling the trident in her arms. She holds out a hand for me to take.<br>"Allies?" She says, her arm extended to me, whilst the battle of the other tributes rages on behind us.  
>I think for a moment about what this means. If we become allies, either of us would have to kill the other sooner or later.<br>But an ally would provide safety for the meantime. Especially when up against Career Tributes. If we encountered them in the forest, we would stand a better chance with two than one.  
>I grab her hand, and she pulls me to my feet. My pants are covered in wet patches from the snow. I wipe myself down before Danii grabs my arm.<br>Lemmy, the boy from District 1 is advancing on us, his axe in one hand raised high above his head. His face is contorted in a primal scream of rage as he pursues us.  
>We turn and flee, not stopping until we are deep in the depths of the woods, which don't provide much cover since they do not bear any leaves.<br>We are stuck in a constant winter month. The snow will never melt and the leaves will never grow.

Kristov didn't prepare me for this.

I slump against a tree trunk, panting. My throat is on fire. I wheez, setting my bow aside, letting the quiver of arrows slide off my shoulder.  
>"We need to find shelter." Danii says, doubled over, her hands on her knees.<br>"Yeah, and we should try and light a fire. Though I don't know how we're going to in this snow." I say, regaining my breath a little.  
>Once we have caught our breaths, we move through the woods, the twisted fingers of branches snagging on our outfits, until we find a suitable little hideout - a break in the branches of some bushes. We are both able to squeeze into the hole in foliage, thankfully.<p>

Danii drops to her knees, finding two sticks buried beneath the snow and rubbing them together, whilst I get to work on finding a pile for them to lie upon so that the damp won't reach them.  
>Danii ignites them successfully. I smile at this triumph as she sets the tiny flame upon the small bonfire I have created. We huddle close to the fire, rubbing our palms together for warmth. Danii announces she will take first watch when we hear the national anthem being played, and the faces of lost Tributes shining brightly in the night sky.<br>Both the boy from District 3. The Boy from Four. I cast a glance at Danii as the face of the boy with the crimson hair appears in the sky, shining like a beacon of light among the stars. She looks away, overcome by remorse.  
>Both the boy and girl from five are dead, as well as both Tributes from Six and the young girl from Seven.<br>Looks like Felix is on his own.  
>Both from Nine and the girl from Ten, have also joined the fallen. They were drawn into the perilous bloodbath at the Cornucopia. For a moment, so was I, but I was lucky enough to escape.<p>

Drexel - the boy from 11, is dead. He must have been the one Danii skewered with her trident.  
>Ten in total. Already. I let out a sigh of relief as I realise how lucky I was not to have my own picture shining up there among the faces of the dead.<p>

Since Danii has decided to keep watch, I retreat into our shelter, trying to pull enough parched leaves around me to make a bed, but it is hopeless. The cold still manages to seep into my clothes and I am shivering so violently, sleep eludes me completely.  
>I have just shuffled outside of the shelter to join Danii in watch when the canon sounds. I blanch violently, as does Dani.<br>"Who was it?" I whisper.  
>Danii shakes her head. "We won't know until tomorrow," She says, brushing her golden hair (tied in loose pigtails for the Games) out of her eyes. "I bet the Careers got them, though."<br>"Yeah," I sigh in agreement. "They've probably formed an alliance already. They're most likely picking us off one by one."  
>I see Danii shudder in the artificial moonlight of the arena. "We should get going tomorrow, find somewhere else to hide." She suggests, wrapping her arms around herself to keep herself from shivering. I wonder how the other tributes are avoiding the cold. The Careers have everything they need to keep themselves warm, having probably taken all the supplies that were left at the Cornucopia.<br>I nod, nibbling my bottom lip with worry. This isn't exactly a perfect habitat to find shelter, but I suppose we will have to try and find a suitable hideout.

Neither of us sleep, we just watch the wind whistle through the naked trees and talk tactics. When the sun rises at Dawn, it's red glow cast over the ground, causing the snow to glitter like sugar powder, we get to our feet, grabbing our weapons and moving through the trees.  
>My throat is dry and cracked, and I find myself drinking my own saliva in order to keep myself from fainting.<p>

"We have to get some water." I whisper hoarsely as we trudge through the snow.  
>Danii nods, and I can see from the dryness in her chapped lips that she is suffering from the same dehydration I am.<p>

"Let's try and find a lake." She offers, her grip slackening on her trident as she grows weaker.  
>The sun passes over our heads, mid-day and afternoon passing by in a flash. We have still not found a lake as it grows dark. The sunlight fades before we break into a clearing.<p>

And there! There it is! A lake, finally we have stumbled across water!

Danii and I look at each other in delight, before rushing towards the lake. "Wait!" I cry, throwing out an arm to stop Danii from rushing forth, but she crashes past my arm and skids along the steep bank, unable to stop. I prepare myself for the splash I am about to here when she slips and lands face down upon the waters surface with a dull thud.

"Danii!" I cry. She groans, pushing herself from the frozen surface.

"Damn, it's frozen!" She yells back.

I roll my eyes. "Really? I never would have guessed." I call back, my voice coloured with sarcasm.

"We have to break the surface." She says, gliding clumsily across the surface until she reaches the bank. The crisp grass crackles beneath her boots as she joins me by my side.

I nod, "Use your trident." I say, my eyes travelling to the lethal trident still clutched protectively in her hand. I wonder how she managed to hold on to it whilst she crashed into the lake.  
>She looks at me for a moment, our eyes locked in a hard stare before she is plunging the three identical spires of her trident into the thick layer of ice.<br>The spikes dig deep into the frozen blanket of water.

Crack.

Winding veins of lightening-bolt shaped cracks appear in the ice where the trident made contact. Danii grins in triumph. She yanks the trident out of the ice. The ice is emitting sounds like a spider's frantic scream as the cracks spread across the surface like wildfire.  
>She flips the handle of her trident round so that the rounded end is pointed towards the ice. I watch as she plunges the hilt into the cracked area of the ice. The surface splits and a grin is spreading across my face as the water is revealed between the puzzle-pieces of ice.<p>

"What are we going to gather the water with?" I ask kneeling down beside the water's edge.  
>Danii pulls a silver object from her pocket. It is a flask. "Where did you get that?" I ask incredulously.<p>

"I found it in the snow at the Cornucopia just before the boy from Eleven tried to run you through." She says smugly. "Someone must have dropped it from one of the packs."

She throws it over to me and I catch it neatly before plunging it into the icy water. I wince as the freezing water engulfs my hand. After a few seconds, I yank the flask from the lake's depths, my hand trembling. I close the lid and tuck it safely in the quiver also holding my arrows.  
>"We can have some when we've found shelter." I say, deciding it best if we save it.<p>

Danii nods grudgingly. I can see she wants to quench her thirst, as do I, but water is valuable in the arena and we mustn't abuse the substance. I realise now how much I have taken water for granted in the past.

Oh, how times have changed.

After dinner, (a small squirrel who dared peep out of his hole in a tree for a second and was promptly shot by me) we settle for large oak tree as shelter which we scale. We wedge ourselves in between the branches, as we have no rope to secure us in if we toss and turn in our sleep. I drift off to sleep, my eyelids drooping before finally closing for good.

* * *

><p>I wake, the acrid smell of smoke filling my nostrils. I shuffle over to Danii on her perch on the branch.<p>

"Danii!" I whisper. She jerks awake.

"Whaa-Whaa?" She murmurs drowsily, grasping blindly for her trident, sensing immediate danger.  
>I press my finger to my lips and she falls silent. "What's going on?" She mouths, her eyes wide and bloodshot with fear.<p>

I tap my nose and she sniffs the air cautiously. I see her mouth the word 'fire' and I nod gravely. I jab my finger towards the forest floor, still covered with snow. The temperature drops so low when nightfalls that my hands begin to loose feeling.

Danii shuffles slightly on her branch, causing a twig sprouting from it to snap. I wince, fearing the worst.

"I wondered when you two girls would wake up." I hear a husky voice cut through the darkness which is dimly-lit by the fire.

A pair of green eyes sparkle in the darkness, the light of the fire glittering in their onyx pupils. I would recognise them anywhere.  
>"Felix?" I say, my brow furrowing.<p>

He steps into the light of the fire. His hair more tousled that usual. He grins widely. "Yep." I reach out for my bow, and he seems to notice, catching me red-handed before I even grasp its handle.

"I'm not going to kill you." He says, and I see the honest innocence I saw at the Training Centre in his eyes again.

"Yeah right," Danii says, her aquamarine eyes narrowing. "Then why are you here?"

A wry smile appears on his thin lips. "You got room for one more up in that tree?"

I do a double-take. "You want to be our ally?" I say, my eyebrows raised in surprise.

"If that's okay. I need to get away from the Careers. They've been chasing me all night." He says, putting on his best puppy-dog eyes.

"Fine, I suppose we could do with another team member." Danii says, sighing.

He grins, stamping out the fire until it is nothing but smouldering remains. He scales the tree as quickly and nimbly and a monkey, before joining us in our branches.  
>"They killed Willameeta." He says darkly. That must have been the name of his fellow District Seven Tribute.<p>

Danii nods sadly. "We know. Who else did they kill?" She asks gravely.

"The girl from Twelve - Damla, I think her name was. I don't know where the boy from Twelve is, though. I was camping nearby when they found her. That boy from Two is a brute." He says, grimacing.

I nod. "You got a weapon?" I ask curiously. We need all the defence we can get.

He pulls the axe off his belt, a smile playing about his lips. "Yeah, and I see you got that bow." He said, chuckling slightly.

I laugh back. Felix turns to Danii, smiling his charming smile so many girls in the Capitol have fallen for.  
>"I don't think we've been formerly introduced." He says, extending a hand generously. "Felix Lonair, nice to meet you."<p>

"Danii Bucklebee." Danii says impassively, shaking his hand.

"Nice to meet you." He says, smiling.

* * *

><p>We settle down for the night, trying our best to fall asleep, cramped together among the tree's branches. It's a wonder how we don't fall. I catch myself teetering on the edge several times, drifting in and out of consciousness.<p>

My eyes fly open, grabbing the branch before I fall and a scream escapes my throat. Someone is below me, clutching the hilt of the sword as they scale the tree.

"Danii, Felix!" I cry. They jerk away, Felix grabbing Danii by the arm before she tumbles out of the tree in fright.

A pair of golden eyes peer up at me menacingly. It's Jaspar.

"We have to get out of the tree!" Danii screams.

"How?" I yell back. Jaspar is advancing on us. I gulp, beads of sweat appearing on my forehead. A sadistic grin wreaths his chiselled face.

A canon fires. I look up at the sky for a moment.

Then I see them, the auburn-haired girl from One runs into our clearing, beaming happily, a spear in her hand. "We got the boy from Twelve, Jaspar!" She cries, almost dancing with joy.

Lemmy appears, crashing through the bushes like a wild bull. "You found them!" He says, his gravelly voice coloured with triumph.

"What does it look like?" Jaspar snaps back, flicking the curls out of his eyes.

I slot an arrow into my bow, drawing it up to my eye's level. I prepare to shoot when Aqua's scream echoes shrilly from below.

"Look out, Jaspar!"

Jaspar lunges for my bow and I dodge swiftly out of his reach.  
>The girl from Two -Destiny- breaks Ito the clearing, breathless, her sword splattered with crimson blood. "Get them, Jaspar!" She shrieks, joining her companions.<p>

He has reached us. Danii cries out in agony as he grabs her by the hair, his fingers curling round a clump of her locks. Felix lashes out, punching Jaspar squarely in the face. Jaspar loses his grip and plummets to the ground. We take a chance, launching ourselves from the branch whilst the others fuss over their fallen warrior. We sprint in the opposite direction, kicking piles of snow aside when suddenly, everything stops.  
>I turn on my heel and see the point if a spear protruding from Felix's stomach.<p>

"NO!" My mouth opens in a scream of horror. He sways gently, his face pale, a blank expression in those charming emerald eyes of his. Then, I watch him fall to the floor, his body convulsing wretchedly as he keels over.

Danii rushes to his side. "Felix, no!" She desperately tries to yank the spear from his stomach from his stomach but he protests, crying out in pain.

"Leave it!" He gasps, blood trickling from his lips. A mist of tears forms in front of my eyes. His perfect face, so ruined, so contorted with agony. "Go..." He gulps, coughing violently. A spurt of blood shoots from his parted lips.

"We can't just leave you!" I cry, but all the time, I can hear the footsteps of the Careers as they thunder through the snow-covered wilderness after us.

"They're coming..." Felix coughs, blood staining the pearly-White snow around him.

"But-" Danii begins.

"GO!" Felix yells.

Danii and I exchange a worried glance, before the Careers are there. A rage so great fills my veins, my blood boils and anger that is fuelled by the vile look of euphoria I had seen on Aqua's face after she had returned from killing the not from Twelve, forces me to reach for my bow. I draw back the arrow and send it soaring through the air, until it sinks into Aqua's skull.

Bullseye.

She lets out a deranged scream of agony, before crumpling to the ground. Lemmy hurtles forward, growling with rage. His fingers are closing round my throat when...

His ribs crack sickeningly as Danii plunges her trident into his back. He yelps, before crumpling to the ground like his companion.

I take one look back at Felix, and see that his eyes are still, unfocused, glazed and glassy and completely unseeing. Then I run, Danii at my heels. Tears sting my eyes as we leave the body of Felix Lonair far behind. 


	5. Losing

_Hi guys!  
><em>

_So here is Chapter 5 of my Hunger Games fanfic. _

_As always, I do not own the Hunger Games or any of it's characters, except my own._

_If you read this fanfic, please review. I'm always eager to hear what you think of my stories. _

_Enjoy!_

_RavenclawCookie_

* * *

><p>Tears roll down my cheeks as I slump to the ground beside a large Chestnut tree.<p>

"We have to go back -" Danii protests, her trident clutched in her hands. Her face is crimson with fury and I can see the tears welling up in her eyes.

"Are you _mad_?" I screech, surprising myself by my tone of voice. "They'd kill us like they killed Felix!"

Danii falls silent. After a few moments she sinks her tridents into the snow. "I just - I hate the thought of his body, being there. With them." She growls angrily, like a wolf preparing for combat.

I sigh, sniffing the cold crisp winter air. "I know, but we can't go back. We already killed two of their team members. They'd slaughter us." I say sadly, the anger ebbing away and being replaced by remorse.

I take a sip of the water from my flask but it sticks in my throat and feels wrong. We make camp in the chestnut tree and I realise how much weight I have lost since being in the arena. But since Felix's death, I have lost my appetite.

* * *

><p>For the next few days, we trudge through the snowy forest, the days growing colder and colder until my hands are a worrying shade of pale blue. We encounter no other Tributes, thankfully.<p>

At night, we feast upon an owl. A rarity, since they would be in hibernation in these kind of conditions. We strip it of it's feathers and roast it over a small fire in a secluded section of the forest, so that it will be harder for the remaining Careers to find us.

We set up a trip-wire between two nearby trees, so that if our enemies approach, they will have to be extremely light-footed.

We return to the lake after a few days, when our flask has run bone-dry. We gather up some more of the icy water. I clench my teeth as my hand plunges past the surface, to keep myself from crying out. The cold is unbearable.

We return to our chestnut tree, it's roots sinking deep into the ground. My eyes travel to the trip-wire and I see it has been severed.

That's when I feel the dart fly past my neck.

"ELLY!" Danii yells. She points into the thick, tangled branches of our tree, where a small figure is perched like a bird.

It's Magenta. The girl from District 11 who tied expert nots in the Training Centre. I see her Peridot eyes burning with concentration as she loads her chute with another dart. It grazes Danii's cheek. Danii cries out in shock."Shoot her, Elly!" She yells furiously, clutching her trident.

"Wait!" I say, holding a hand out to prevent Danii from advancing on Magenta.

"Magenta," I say calmy, as to show that we bear no threat. "We're not going to hurt you."

"Speak for yourself," Danii mutters under her breath moodily, one hand on her cheek.

Magenta says nothing, her chute still held firmly in her hand, poised by her lips, ready to strike.

"Come down." I call up to her, waving with my hand for her to join us on the forest floor. She shakes her head stubbornly, her sleek brown hair falling in front of her eyes. "Please, we promise we won't hurt you." I say, hoping the honesty shows in my face. She gives me a long, hard stare before she descends the trunk, dropping lightly to the ground, her small feet sinking into the snow."Did you sever our rope?" I ask, pointing to the frayed length of trip-wire beside our tree.

Her brow furrows and she shakes her head. I give Danii a panicked look.

I hear the canon fire and my heart sinks in my chest. The Careers are on the move.I grab Magenta by the arm and drag her through the trees, pushing branches and kicking snow out of my path.

I feel my boot catch upon something solid sprouting from the blanket of snow. A rock? No, it's to large to be a rock. I slam into the ground with such a force that my head spins. The snow cushions my fall somewhat. A small groan escapes my lips, which are coated with snow. I wipe my mouth with my sleeve before I see it. A human hand. I scream, a blood-curdling sound I barely recognise as my own voice escapes my throat. I scramble to my feet, ignoring the snow that begins to seep through my clothes. So much for thermo-clothing. Danii and Magenta are standing a few metres away, both looking so pale they are almost ghost-like.

"Who is it?" I say, feeling the lump of bile rising in my throat as I look upon the limp body.

Danii sinks to the ground beside the body, peeling back the collar of the Tribute's jacket with her thumb and forefinger, revealing their face.

"It's the boy from Ten." She says, throwing back the collar and getting I her face, a look of disgust upon her face.

The coppery smell of blood fills my nose as I approach the body of the boy. The boy's jacket is stained crimson and as I take a closer look, the source of the scarlet teardrops are answered. The boy's throat has been slit, the thin red line stretching from ear to ear. The line is far too neat for Destiny's mace. Too delicate for such a large weapon. Despite the sickening sight before me, my brow furrows in confusion. If the Careers weren't the source of his death...then who was?

"Come on Elly, let's get out of here." Danii says, growing impatient. I see the worry lines creased upon her forehead. I snap out of my reverie. I get to my feet, backing away from the body.

"We have to get away from the Careers." Magenta says timidly. This is the first time I have heard her speak. Her voice resembles the frightened squeak of a mouse.

I nod. "I know but..." I cut off short as I hear distant shouts reverberating off the trees. "They're coming..." Danii whispers, her wide, frightened eyes darting round the snow-dusted trees.

I think of Felix, lying upon floor, the silver spear protruding from his chest. Those exact words pouring from his mouth as well as a gush of blood...

"This way," I say breathlessly, starting up in the opposite direction to the sound of the shouts.

Danii and Magenta follow quickly in my wake. I yank my now off my shoulder, loading it with one of the sleek silver arrows from my quiver and holding it out in front of me, ready to shoot at the first sign of movement. I hear a scream. A girl's scream. My breath catches in my throat. The sound is horrifying, a shiver tracing down my spine as it rings through the wintery forest. I think of who it could be...then I realise. The only girl left in the arena other than Magenta, myself and Danii is...

"Destiny." Danii breathes. "But...who-?" The canon fires, cutting her query short. We watch as the aircraft hovers over a single clump of trees in the near distance. The metal claw extends, scooping up a limp body from the ground. But the body it lifts does not belong to Destiny. It is the girl from 3, Vanity.

"It's not Destiny." I say, watching the hovercraft, squinting to see as it shifts, revealing the bright ball of fire representing a synthetic sun, disappearing into the sky.

"Vanity." Danii says, bringing a hand to her forehead. "I-I forgot about her." She falls silent for a moment, before lashing out, kicking the snow at her feet. "Damn it!" She cries, sinking her trident into the moist ground. "If it had been Destiny, Jaspar would have been the only threat left..."

_Not the only threat_, a small nagging voice hisses in the back of my mind. I ignore it, just as a small silver parachute floats down, landing in front of me in the plush show at my feet.

I bend down, aware of Magenta and Danii's eyes on me. I yank open the silvery bag attached and pull out a hand-woven basket full to the brim with bread.

My eyes light up, a smile forming on my face. "They sent us bread!" I cry euphorically. Grabbing a soft, blissfully warm piece and hold it to my nose, inhaling the sweet mouth-watering scent. It's shaped like a fish. "It's from District Four!"

Danii and Magenta rush to my side, Danii's eyes wide at the sight of something from her District. I catch the glint of a tear in her eye but I say nothing. Magenta grabs a piece and sinks her neat little teeth into the plump roll, and I do the same.

After each munching on a piece each, we retreat into a tall tree a few metres away, splitting the bread between us fairly evenly once we are perched safely in the tree's branches.

Although we have not officially announced it, Magenta becomes our ally over the course of the next few days. And we accept her presence as if she was is our friend. We need another's company, especially since Felix died.

I think of Felix, so tough, so strikingly-handsome. I expected him to last far longer in these games than he did. But I suppose the least expected can happen in the Hunger Games. I should have realised that having watched it all my life.

It's hard to believe, having been taught about the Games in school and within it annually on our small TV screen at home, that I am now in the arena. I brush the everlasting snow of the scrawny branch in our tree and somehow, none of it seems real. It all just seems like a terrible nightmare. One I never want to relive again, but one that I know if I do have the fortune to make it out of here alive, will haunt me for the rest of my life.

My eyes ache with tiredness and the cold is slowly forcing my body to shut down. I am about to tap A lightly-snoring Danii on the shoulder, signalling the beginning of her shift when I see a pair of glimmering bronze eyes between the trees below. A shadow moves between the thick trunks, before fading back into the darkness. A gnawing feel of unease fills my rigid body. I'm sure it is merely one of my brain's tricks in its semi-conscious state, but I can't help feeling doubtful. Especially in our current surroundings. I shift in the knot of rope Magenta has fashioned for me out of the discarded line of rope she found at the Cornucopia. I tap Danii on the shoulder.

"You turn." I say, already settling down to sleep. My eyes are closing rapidly.

"Mmmkay." She murmurs last thought before I drift into a deep sleep is those bronze eyes. I wonder if Danii will catch sight of them tonight, or if they were just a figment of my imagination.


	6. Mourning

_Hi guys!_

_So, this is the sixth chapter of my Hunger Games fanfic and this is where it all comes to a head, really! It was really exciting to write, and I hope you enjoy reading!_

_Please review, I always enjoy looking at your comments!_

_As always, I do not own the Hunger Games or any of it's characters, except my own!_

_The final chapter will be coming your way very soon._

_RavenclawCookie_

* * *

><p>I wake, blinking blearily as the vicious winter sunlight falls across my face. A shiver runs through my body. The cold is biting. This has definitely been our coldest day in the arena. I hold my hands to my eyes and see they are trembling violently. I draw my jacket tighter around my body, my teeth chattering together.<p>

"It's freezing." I mutter through gritted teeth as Danii wakes. She shudders, drawing the collar of her jacket tighter around her neck.

"You're not kidding. I can barely feel my fingers." She says, flexing her fingers.

Magenta wakes last, her eyes wide and frightful like that of a possum or mouse. It is clear she suffered from a nightmare during her slumber.

During the course of the morning, we each drop from the tree, trekking through the snow-covered forest, our breath hanging in mists before us. We take a sip from the flask each, and I hope this will sustain us for the day. My stomach growls and I realise suddenly that I haven't eaten in hours. Since discovering the boy from Ten, blood pouring from the slice in his flesh, I had lost my appetite. But having slept, it now returns to me, roaring hungrily for food.

Sadly, there isn't much of it in the arena.

Danii and I decide to build a small fire beside a small clump of bushes, hoping they will shroud the smoke in case the Careers happen to stumble across our path.

Magenta offers to find food. I protest at first, thinking it will be far better at this critical point in the Games for us to stay in each other's company. But she persuades me that she is capable enough to hunt on her own.

"I'm sixteen. I may not look it, but I can look after myself." She says, whipping her dart chute from her belt.

I sigh reluctantly. "Fine, just be careful." I say finally, a begrudging edge to my voice. She gives us a wave before disappearing through the thick trunks of trees, leaving Danii and I to get to work on creating a fire. Danii finds two sturdy twigs amongst the thick snow whilst I gather up a small pile of twigs. I set the twigs lightly upon the surface of the snow, just as the two sticks Danii has been rubbing furiously together ignite as one. The orange flame blooms and she sets it down upon my pile of twigs. We shuffle closer, sad that Magenta won't be able to share the blissful warmth of the fire.

An hour passes, and I think nothing of her absence. She has still not returned.

"She's probably just having trouble finding food. It's hard to find anything in this God-forsaken place." Danii spits, surpressing a shudder.

I nod. "You're probably right." I say, but somehow, I cannot ignore the nagging feeling of unease gnawing away at my insides during her absence.

Another hour passes, and I twiddle my thumbs anxiously, growing more and more uneasy by the second. Finally, the suspense becomes too much. I jump to my feet, snatching my how from beside the fire.

"Come on, we're going to look for her. " I say briskly. "Get your trident."

Danii nods, stamping out the fire and grabbing her trident quickly before following me into the bare foliage. We walk for what seems like hours through the forest, our feet aching as the cold snow finally begins to seep through to our feet. There is still no sign of Magenta. I throw the caution of being caught by the Career Tributes to the winds.

"Magenta!" I cry, rushing through the trees, Danii following in my wake. Danii stops me in my tracks, catching me by the arm and pulling me back.

"What the hell are you doing?" She hisses, her voice like a scorpion's sting. "The Careers could hear you!"

"But what if something's happened to her? We can't just leave her to fend for herself!" I snap viciously.

She sighs. "Fine! Just keep going." She says. I nod, ploughing forward through the spindly branches of trees. I reach a clearing, a roughly-rounded clear patch in the forest, free of thick tree trunks sprouting from the ground, when I hear it. My name. My name being called in a frantic shriek of terror.

"ELLY! DANII!"

Danii and I look at each other desperately, before crying simultaneously, "Magenta!"

We sprint through the forest, our boots crushing fallen twigs and branches into the thick built-up layer of snow. We crash into second clearing and my eyes fall upon the small scrawny figure standing over a body strewn across the floor. I see the pool of blood in the snow around it and breathe a sigh of relief.

It's not Magenta.

"Magenta, what's going on?" Danii asks, perplexed.

"I was hunting a rabbit when I found her - it's the girl from two." Magenta replies shakily. We rush over and I peer down at the body of Destiny, her crimson hair spread around her like an angel's halo. It almost looks like she could have just fallen asleep...but as I look closer I see the scarlet line stretching across the base of her throat, just under her chin. Like the boy from ten, her throat has been slit.

This was not the work of Jaspar Charme. He neither owns a mace or knife and I know he wouldn't kill his own comrade until the very end. Then I realise, Destiny is still alive. She gurgles, bubbles of blood foaming in the corner of her mouth, a sight that causes my stomach churn. Then her body gives a final spasm and she becomes still.

The canon fires.

Then another.

My brow furrows. I turn back and I see Magenta lying upon the floor, the point of a dagger sticking out of her chest. She crumples to the ground like a rag doll.

"No!" I cry, rushing over to her. But it is too late, she is already dead. Her killer musn't be far away. "Danii, run!" I scream, grabbing her by the scruff of her neck and launching her forward. She breaks into a run. I follow in her wake. I can hear thunderous footsteps behind me and I urge my legs to go faster. We sprint to the edge of the forest, and barely notice as we break into the wide field where the golden Cornucopia glimmers in the centre. We stop, my heart resembles the frantic chug of a steam train. My head spins and my knees are trembling weakly. I can barely stand, but I fight with the horrible swaying sensation taking over my body.

"Show yourself!" Danii yells, shaking her trident ferociously in the air, her mouth an arch of pure anger. I close my eyes, resisting the urge to vomit that builds in my throat. The grip on my bow slackens. This is the finale. I have to be ready for anything.

My knuckles knot tightly around my bow once more as my ears are filled with the gentle rustling of trees. My eyes fly open and they lock upon a figure emerging from the trunks of two huge oaks. It is as fast as lightening, their bronze eyes are burning with determination, their chiselled face twisted into an evil smirk. An assortment of knives hang off their belt, glinting maliciously in the sunlight.

It's Cornelius Twig.

My fellow Tribute from District Eight. I had completely forgotten that he was still in the running. That explains it. He killed the boy from Ten, he killed Destiny and Magenta.

I see him draw the blade from his belt and I raise my bow to eye-level. "Danii, look out!" I shriek. Danii turns on the spot, clutching her golden trident in her hands. The knife soars through the air, and for a moment I think it misses. But then I see the blade sink deeply into her chest. A strangled cry of devastation escapes my throat as she drops to her knees, her trident falling from her hands. The golden ends of her hair run red, soaking up the blood that pours from her chest.

A triumphant grin spreads across Cornelius' face. He lobs a second knife at me, which I dodge narrowly in one swift movement. The neatly-carve tip misses my ear by inches. He throws another, as soon as the first has become airborne. This time I am not so lucky. The blade grazes my skin, ripping a large area of flesh on my forearm. My mind floods with the overwhelming pain radiating from my arm. I let out a scream of agony. Through the soul-crushing pain, I raise my bow in one fluid motion, ready to strike...

When out of no-where, huge snow-White beasts bound across the snow. They resemble bears, only their skin is thick and scaly, like armour. No weapon could puncture their hide. They are Muttations from the Capitol, bred purposely for the slaughter of Tributes. They pounce upon Cornelius, ripping him to shreds before my very eyes. Their sabre-like teeth sinking into his flesh, ripping off random chunks. His screams fill my ears and I turn away, ignoring his pleas for help.

I seek Danii's figure, lying listlessly upon the ground. I drag her far away from the mutts, so that we are almost at the edge of the forest, when my arm gives in, and I am forced to drop her. I clutch my arm to stop the gush of blood as I kneel beside her. "You're going to be okay." I whisper, tears spilling over my lids.

She shakes her head slightly, her body shaking with violent convulsions. I can see this is it for her. I think of how marvellous she looked, standing proudly in the Chariots before the Games had even begun, the rippling scale-like sequins engulfing her...

Now I look at her, my eyes filling with tears that distort my vision. I see the hilt of Cornelius' dagger protruding from her chest. It looks ugly, out of place, my heart sinks in my chest and I fight the overwhelming urge to yank it from her wound.

But it would be pointless.

"It's too late. I'm glad I got this far." She chokes, gasping for air.

"You can do this just..." I begin.

"No," She cuts across me sharply. "You need to go on and win this thing. Leave me, find Jaspar and kill him." She whispers. I see the tears welling up in those aquamarine eyes and know her time is almost up. I force myself to nod, suppressing a sob.

"You have to win this...Elly." She gasps, drawing heavy breaths between words.

"Please...you can't die…" I say, my hand grasping the cuff of her jacket so tightly my knuckles turn as white as the snow the surrounds us. The shouts of Cornelius being ripped to shreds by the mutated bears are so distant, it's as if a glass wall separates me from the bloodbath.

She goes still. So horribly still. I look into the face of my ally...no, my friend for one last time, before the roar of the mutts behind me force me to get to my feet and run. The canon fires, announcing her death to the rest of Panem. I think of those in District 4 and think of how they will mourn her. If I win this thing, on my Victory tour, I will make sure to give my speech to them, telling them how she died like a true heroine and wasn't just my ally, but my friend...

I do not want to leave her, but I know I have to. I wipe the tears away furiously as I head for the forest, in search of Jaspar.

But Jaspar has already found me, it seems.

I skid to a holt as I reach the edge of the forest. I see a shadowy figure appear through the gnarled, twisted branches of the bare trees.

"Well, well, well." The soft seductive purr of Jaspar Charme's voice fills my ear. "What do we have here?"

I whip the arrow from the quiver hanging loosely off my shoulder, ignoring the throbbing pain coming from my arm. I feel the warm trickle of blood meandering down my forearm. He raises his arm to launch his sleek metal spear at me, but I have already launched my arrow into the air. Fast as lightening, it lodges itself in his neck, blood spurting from his punctured jugular vein. He falls to the ground, just another victim of these brutal games...

The canon fires, then the amplified voice of Claudius Templesmith rings through the arena; "Elly Finlie of District 8 - The winner of the 72nd Annual Hunger Games!"

The roars of the mutts disappear and a hovercraft appears above my head. The ladder falls at my feet, and without a moments hesitation, I gasp it with the last of my strength. A dull ache comes from my arm. I glance beneath my feet and see Jaspar's body sprawled across the frosty ground, blood still pouring restlessly from the rip in his neck from my arrow. The arena is getting smaller and smaller as I am pulled up into the aircraft by a team of people from the Capitol. I collapse safely onto the cold floor of the craft, ignoring the urgent voices of those around me.

Finally, I am going home.


	7. Winning

**_Hi guys!_**

_So this is the seventh and final chapter of my Hunger Games Fanfic an I really hope you've enjoyed reading it! I have certainly enjoyed writing it. _

_Please, please, please review this story if you read it! I am always eager to hear what you think!_

_As always, I do not own the Hunger Games or it's characters, except my own. _

_Enjoy and thanks for reading! I hope to be writing some more stories soon._

**_RavenclawCookie_**

* * *

><p>I feel someone lifting me by the arms to a bench. Somebody is tying a bandage quickly round my arm to stop the flow of blood gushing restlessly from the wound. But I am so numb I barely feel the pain. The dull hum of the Hovercraft's engines fills my ears, but the sound is distant, a low hum in the back of my mind.<p>

Then, I feel a sharp needle puncturing the skin of my arm and before I know it, I am swallowed by the overwhelming darkness...

* * *

><p>I am lying upon a stiff hospital bed in a painfully-bright White room. I am cautious as I move in my bed, noticing the drip in my hand connected to a plush bag of liquid. I grimace as I feel it being pumped into my hand. My head spins, and before I even have time to sort out the dishevelled state of my mind, I plummet back into the darkness waiting eagerly to take me.<p>

I wake again and the drip is no longer in my arm. My hand drifts to the arm where Cornelius' knife slashed my skin, expecting to feel a grim, ugly scar. But all I feel is smooth skin. My eyes widen and I sit up, struggling to get a good look at my arm. Sure enough, I see nothing but unspoiled flesh. The strange juice in the bag attached to the drip in my hand must have been a special healing syrup from the Capitol...I then become aware that I am in the Capitol once more, and the memories of the Games come flooding back to me in an instant.

I slide out of my bed, heading for the door when someone enters. It's Eddard, my stylist. The sight of him brings joy to my eyes. My mouth stretches wide in a grin. It feels like years since I last saw him, just before I entered the Games.

"Eddard!" I cry. He smiles, running a hand carelessly through his dark hair before embracing me. I cling to his warm emerald jacket as if my life depends on it. Finally, he pulls away, his smile touching those emerald eyes that twinkle with glee. They are framed by the deep green of his eyelashes.

"You did it, Elly." He breathes, cupping me chin in his delicate hand. I feel the threat of tears building in my throat and I gulp, forcing the feeling down.

"Yeah, guess I did." I whisper. But at what price? Yes, I have escaped the arena, but I have no doubt that these memories will haunt me for the rest of my life. He traces my palm with a neatly-polished fingernail.

"We have to get you ready for tonight, ASAP." He says with a smile. "You're going to look fantastic." I force a smile. My winning ceremony. Great. Now I will have to relive every single moment of the Games before being interrogated by Caesar Flickerman.

Silently, Eddard pulls me out of the door into another room far down the corridor, where the rest of my prep team greets me warmly, chirruping excitedly about how fabulous I was in the Games. They get to work immediately, fussing over my hair, scrubbing me down until my skin stings.

"Should we put it in a plait?" Eddard considers, his fingers smoothing down my brunette curls.

"Fabulous idea, Eddard!" Athena cries. She is skinny, her arms covered entirely with winding, intricate tattoos. Crimson hair cascades down her spine, clashing wonderfully with her pale doll me up so I look almost fairy-like by the end of my session with them. They present me with a mirror and I am stunned by what I see:

I barely look like me; Eddard and has team have completely transformed me. A silken cape attached to my dress is linked to my arm by beautiful golden threads, so that when I extend my arms it flitters about my back like the wings of an eagle. My brunette curls tumble over my shoulder in a wave. I am dressed in a simple floaty dress cut just past my knee, but it is certainly beautiful. My cheekbones have been enhanced my a streak of bronze on each cheek and my eyes have been dusted with a light golden powder. I look radiant and when I see my reflection a smile touches my lips.

* * *

><p>Kristov is steering me towards the stage. He fixes me upon a plate that will lift me onto the stage. My stomach churns as I hear the excited cheers of the Capitol citizens. Kristov gives me a reassuring smile.<p>

"You'll be great." He says, rubbing my arm. I reply with a grin before the plate is lifting me up and I am reminded horribly of the metal disc that lifted me into the arena when the Games began...

The blinding lights of the Capitol floods my vision and I force my cheeriest smile, waving as enthusiastically as possible to the people of the Capitol, who are going crazy. The next thing I know, the familiar face of Caesar Flickerman is greeting me with a warm smile. He kisses my hand before pulling me over to a pair of chairs. I sink into the plush seat as he announces to the Capitol audience that we will be watching a video summarising the Games. I swallow. Hard. I do not want to be reminded of the Games, let alone sit through a replay of the terrible memories that swarm through my thoughts like a pack of angry wasps.

I have to sit through the film, which lasts approximately three hours. I fight back tears as I watch Felix being run through with Jaspar's spear once more. The crowd gives an appreciative groan of sorrow. I cannot prevent my eyebrows raising as I watch myself shoot Aqua in the forehead. The anger on my face is like nothing I've ever seen before. When I see the dagger collide with Danii's chest a silent tear slips from my eye. I go stiff in the chair and I feel Caesar place his hand over mine. I give him an appreciative smile. The film ends and I breathe a sigh of relief. Caesar turns to me once the applause dies down.

"So, Danii - how did you feel when you saw your fellow District Eight Tribute Cornelius kill your ally, Danii?" He asks bravely. I inhale deeply, clearing my mind.

"I felt devastated. I knew one of us had to die for the sake of the Games, but," I say, truthfully. "But she was so...strong. I thought I would be the one to go." The crowd whimpers and I flutter my lashes sadly at them.

Caesar looks at me sadly. "Well, we all felt pretty emotional when you were saying your goodbyes to poor Danii. What was it like losing your ally?"

Damn, I wish he wouldn't ask me so many questions about Danii. I had already watched her die again tonight. "I felt so alone. I knew I had to face the last part of the Games without her and that scared me. I trusted her...it sounds silly because we had to kill each other." The crowd shake their heads, sniffing sadly at my story.

"How did it feel, Elly, when that hovercraft arrived to take you out of the arena as a champion?" Caesar persists. "It felt like the happiest moment of my life." I breathe with the upmost emotion.

"Ladies and gentlemen - Elly Finlie, the winner of the 72nd Hunger Games!" Caesar roars, pulling me to my feet and holding our clasped hands high in the air. The crowd goes wild. I beam at them all, but the smile doesn't quite reach my eyes.

* * *

><p>They place the cold metal crown upon my head. It sinks into my curls and the crowd cheers, pumping their fists in the air, their wigs askew as they struggle to applaud me. I wave at them all with my hand, blowing them the occasional kiss. They are empty kisses.<p>

* * *

><p>My house in the Victors' Village back home in District 8 is wonderful. There are several other inhabitants in the Victors' Village. However, I do not bother to consult with them. My sisters are over the moon with my return to District Eight and so is my mother. I settle in quickly in my new home, preparing for the Victory Tour I will shortly be embarking on.<p>

At night, my dreams are filled with the Games, but when I wake, sweating and shaking at the nightmares, I try my best to tell myself it's all over.

But it's not so easy.

* * *

><p>On the Victory Tour, I journey from District to District, giving speeches about the Games and their lost Tributes. In District 2 - an extremely wealthy looking District by the looks of it, the tall central justice building in the centre - I am greeted by cold glares and fowl looks as I speak sadly of the deaths of Jaspar and Destiny.<p>

Speaking in public was never really my thing.

I am dreading the visit to four. As we approach I feel the wonderful salty smell of the sea fills my nostrils, as well as the faint smell of fish. I smile. This was certainly Danii's District.

I hop off the sleek streamlined train, a pair of Peacekeepers flagging either side of me as I walk to the stage. The sad mournful eyes of the District 4 citizens greet me as I make my way on stage.

"Hello, citizens of District 4," I begin, my voice trembling slightly. "It's wonderful to be here...by the sea..." I stammer, all the while feeling their eyes upon me. My cheeks burn scarlet. My hands clutch the podium, my nails digging into the wood. "I'm terribly sorry for your loss." I say, the words sticking in my throat. "Danii was a great friend...she died like a true warrior. She fought until the end and I couldn't have survived in that arena without her." I take a deep breath, my eyes drifting to the small woman at the side if the stage, tears rolling slowly down her cheeks. It could only be Danii's mother. "I can't thank her enough. I would not be here with out I am also sorry for the loss of the boy, Frederic, from your District. I wish you well. Thank you for your consideration." I say softly into the microphone.

District Four bids me farewell with a mournful round of applause and I step off the stage, skipping quickly back towards the train. I slam my door shut and the tears slide down my cheeks before I can stop them.

I venture to the other Districts, giving a sad, meaningful speech to the citizens of District 11, who appear mournful of their lost Tributes - Magenta and Drexel. All the while - with each District I venture to across the nation of Panem - the guilt I feel for the dead children of grieving families within those Districts grows like a blooming flower. I know I will never be able to rid myself of this guilt. Not whilst I still walk upon this ruined earth. It will always be there in the back of my mind.

* * *

><p>I return to District Eight, my home, I hop off the train, running down to my home in the Victors' Village. But as I pass, a bedraggled old woman seizes me by the shoulders, a murderous look on her face.<p>

"Why did you live?" She screams furiously, a look of wild insanity gleaming in those wide grey eyes.

"I-I..." I stammer, terrified.

"Why did he have to die, why wasn't it you?" She shrieks, her fingernails digging into my jacket. Then I realise: it must be Cornelius' mother. I catch the look of grief, buried deeply within the lines of her face and fall speechless. I don't know what to say.

"Mom!" A girl cries, rushing over to her mother and dragging her off me, kicking and screaming. The girl gives me a sad, apologetic look. "Sorry." She says softly. "She just misses him. We don't really blame you."

"I-I'm sorry." I manage to choke out shocked. The girl, who must only be Cornelius' sister, nods.

"Come on, mom." She says softly in the woman's ear. They hobble away, the woman throwing dirt looks over her shoulder at me. They hit me like a thousand knives.

I sprint home, slamming the door behind me, breathing heavily. My youngest sister, Eve, greets me with a hug. She takes my hand and drags me to the dinner table where my mother is placing a steaming hot pie upon the table. I smile, inhaling the blissful smell.

"Smells good, mom." I say, trying to rid myself of the grief in that poor woman's pain-stricken eyes. I settle down at the table, reaching for a slice of steaming pie and placing it gently upon my plate. I don't have mug of an appetite but eat purely to please my mother.

I suppose that's the one good thing in my life now: we never go hungry. But I suppose it comes at a price: the memories of the Games that will last a lifetime.


	8. Running

_**Hey guys!**_

_**Okay, so I've decided to add an epilogue chapter as a kind of sequel to the original story about Elly's life after the games. It's based after Katniss and Peeta won the 74th Hunger Games and Elly is still battling with her own memories of the Games during the uprising in District 8. **_

_**I hope you like it and please review if you get the chance!**_

_**Love,**_

_**RavenclawCookie**_

* * *

><p>I looked into the eyes of my enemy…friend…ally…who lay upon the ground, my arrow through his jugular, blood pouring restlessly from the sharp wound.<p>

Caesar Flickerman's amplified voice echoed round the arena , "Elly Finlie of District 8 is the winner of the 72nd Annual Hunger Games!" A ladder fell to the ground before me, and instinctively I grasped the rope with such a force my knuckles turned white. I watched as the snowy wasteland that was the arena shrinking beneath my feet as we gained height. The body of my fellow tribute, Jaspar Charme from District 2, became nothing but a small crumpled shape upon the frosted ground, a blanket of thick snow draped across a flat endless span of land. I was pulled into the helicopter, my heart hammering in my chest as I looked round at the strange, harsh-looking face, their faces expressionless. Before I knew it, I felt the sharp stab of the needle in my back. And suddenly, the agony of the throbbing gash running across the length of my arm became nothing, fading into a distant forgotten corner of my numb mind. My eyes drooped and fell into darkness…

My eyes flew open, my hand clutching the newly-re-opened scar that was pouring with blood from the shattered bullet lodged within my bicep. I knew I had to keep running, but the fiery pain in my legs from running mile after mile became to much. My knees buckled and I fell to the cold forest floor, the slippery crimson substance oozing through my fingers as I clutched my wound.

I had been fleeing from the Peacekeepers, who had picked up my trail through the glistening snow that had turned the whole of Panem into a winter wonderland. Well, if you could call it a 'Wonderland'. The rebellion that had broken out like a caged beast in my District became too much for me to handle. I knew I had to escape, even if it was the last thing I did. I had to get away…all of the violence…the faces of people who were nursing fatally-injured loved-ones, mangled by the ruthless Peacekeepers only reminded me of my time in the Hunger Games arena.

The face of my ally, Danii Bucklebee from District 4 appeared in the periphery of my fading vision, the hilt of a glimmering sword sunken into her bleeding chest, her eyes glazed and unseeing. My body gave a final tremble and I fell into the black hole of death I knew was waiting to swallow me up. Would I bleed to death? Surely no one would ever discover me here, in the glistening forest on the edge of who knows what District. I had completely lost track whilst I had been running for my life from the Peacekeepers. My devious escape had failed. If someone did happen to stumble across me, it would most likely be a Peacekeeper who would surely be pleased to see the sight of me drowning in a pool of my own blood.

It felt like I was lying there for years, just watching the snowflakes flutter past my eyeline, so numb that I was oblivious to the biting cold gnawing at my exposed flesh. I hoped someone would find me, somehow. The snow-strewn landscape reminded me all to vividly of the arena. Flashes of the frozen wasteland I had been confined to for several solid weeks exploded into my mind at odd moments whilst I lay there, my chest rising and falling heavily with the effort to suppress the terrible memories.

As much as I tried, my body failed to respond to my brain's futile commands. I could barely even lift a fingertip, even if I tried. But by that point, my body had waved a white flag of surrender.

Suddenly, I felt a pair of hands lift me from the icy ground. So strong, yet so soft and careful. I could not open my eyes to look into the face of my savior, as much as I tried, my eyelids continued to resist my brain's commands. The cold appeared to have seeped into my veins. I could not rid myself of the cold that swept over me. How long had I been lying upon the forest floor? I was slipping in and out of consciousness, that I was sure of. But even in those brief periods of awareness, I could not open my eyes. I wanted to thank my savoir…who I am sure was no Peacekeeper as his hands were glove-less and possessed a tenderness no Peacekeeper would possess.

But I knew I would not get a chance to as I felt myself slip into the devilish clutches of unconsciousness, the sound of my hero's boots crunching upon the crisp leaves of the forest became distant, finally disappearing into silence.

Someone was dabbing my forehead with a damp flannel, the soft moisture soothing the dull ache in my temples. I emitted a soft groan as I looked into the face of a middle-aged woman, who's face was wreathed in a worried expression. A small girl with ash-blonde hair stood by her side like a guardian-angel, watching over me, a thoughtful expression on her innocent face. They slid into steady focus as my eyes roved round the surroundings.

"W-where am I?" I asked, realizing with relief that I still possessed the ability to speak. However, my voice came out in an odd croak, hoarse from under use.

"District 12.' The small girl replied softly. So I had made it after all. Triumph stirred in my stomach as I looked upon the face of the girl…who I somehow recognized, though I was unsure of where I had seen her before.

A boy entered the room, his halo of golden curls framed his agonized crystal-blue eyes that I knew had experienced the same kind of terrors I had. Peeta Mellark. I recognized him from watching him day after day competing in the 74th Annual Hunger Games, though the camera seemed to have been focused on his supposed soul mate Katniss Everdeen for most of the time.

It was a struggle for me to watch the games after knowing I competed. The memories of my own past in the Games came flooding back to me within the first few watches; but after several attempts to turn away, I found that I somehow couldn't help myself.

"Peeta?" I asked timidly, wondering if I was on some kind of morphling drug procured from the Capitol and was just seeing things. Peeta Mellark had been dwelling on the fringes of my mind frequently recently. The boy nodded in response to my question. The famous face of Katniss Everdeen appeared beside him, a hard expression on her face.

"Who is she?" The girl on fire asked warily.

"We think she may have escaped from Eight." The small girl answered.

"I've seen her before…" Katniss said, gnawing on her lip thoughtfully.

"So have I." Peeta chipped in, his expression mirroring Katniss'.

"She was the winner of the 72nd Hunger Games. She was fifteen when she won." Katniss said, a light flickering in her eyes as she uncovered y identity. "But what happened to her?"

It was my turn to answer the questions. "I don't suppose you've heard about the uprising in District Eight?" I asked, my voice still hoarse.

The four of them nodded. "Well…I escaped. I killed the Peacekeeper guarding our factory when his back was turned." I noticed the quizzical looks on their face. "Yes, I still work at a factory. Much unlike you two, the Peacekeepers in District Eight kept an eye on me and I still worked. So I killed him. Then I fled. I knew I had to reach District 12, at least." I said. They all looked at me, a mixture of shock and pity in their eyes.

"What happened to your arm?" Katniss pressed on after a moments silence.

The small girl I recognized now as Primrose Everdeen - Katniss' sister whom she had volunteered for when her name had been called in The Reaping, held up a shiny blood-stained bullet to the light. The light's glare bounced off the bullet's glistening surface.

"A peacekeeper shot me." I said, casually, risking a peek at my arm to see the damage, though I could only feel a dull ache radiating from my arm. All I could see was a neat line of stitches upon raw skin, healing my ruptured scar.

"She almost bled to death," Peeta commented, a hint of worry apparent in his smooth, soothing tone.

"Good thing you found her then, Peeta." The woman who could only have been Katniss' mother replied. "The bullet had re-opened her scar from the Games."

"But we fixed it." Primrose interjected proudly.

A silence filled the air between us, so thick it could have been cut with a knife before Katniss finally turned to Peeta and said, "Why were you in the woods? The Peacekeepers could have found you, and then you'd have ended up like Gale!" There was fury mounting in her voice.

Peeta gave an emotionless shrug. "I just felt like taking a walk. And I didn't get caught, did I?" He retorted. The reply would have usually implied sharpness, but Peeta's tone only appeared dull, exhausted, like he had barely slept in weeks.

I knew how he felt.

"Fine." Katniss huffed. "Just don't do it again, okay?" Peeta gave a small nod.

I felt my brow furrow. These evidently weren't the Star-Crossed Lovers from District 12 everyone had studied in the arena.

"We'll leave you to rest." Katniss' mother said with a smile before ushering the others from the room. I closed my eyes, glad to be of company after being alone for days in my escape from District Eight. My eyes closed slowly and once they had, I wished for nothing more than to open them again.

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><p><em>I watched as Cornelius Twig, my fellow tribute from District Eight rammed the sword through Danii's chest. A scream escaped my mouth, my chocolate curls flying about my face in the harsh winds of the frozen wasteland. I watched in horror as the blood seeped through her chest, her face turning cold, blue…the ends of her golden hair that lay upon her chest absorbing the crimson liquid. I narrowly dodged the dagger he flung at me, whipping another from his belt as soon as the first became airborne. I was not so lucky the second time around. The sharp point of the dagger grazed by arm, slicing at my flesh. An agony so great invaded my mind causing my vision to sway dangerously. And that's when the mutts came. Muttations from the capitol that resembled great snow-white bears yet with scaly skin that no arrow could puncture. I gazed upon the face of my ally from District 4, who lay upon the snowy ground, one last time, knowing I could not save her. I turned and fled, the screams of Cornelius Twig ringing through my ears as he was torn to bloody tatters by the mutts. And that's when I felt the spear soar past my ear, the neatly-carved tip missing my ear by millimeters. The face of Jaspar Charme appeared between the gnarled naked branches of the forest, a second spear raised in his bloody hand. Who had he just killed? A list of the remaining tributes buzzed in my mind like a cloud of angry bees. Was it Felix Lonair, the handsome ebony-haired boy from District 7? Was it Vanity Whirl, the strikingly beautiful scarlet-haired girl from District 3? An image of her flawless features, bludgeoned and blood-spattered flashed through my mind and I felt a strong urge to vomit.<em>

_"Well, well, well…what do we have here?" Jaspar asked, his voice full of a sick seduction that only made the urge to vomit increase._

_I whipped the arrow from the quiver that hung from my shoulder before he could so much as raise his arm to launch the spear at me. My arrow lodged itself in his neck and he fell to the ground, just another tribute in the capitol's games…_

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><p>I woke with a start, bolting upright on the sofa I had been lying on. I threw of the blanket that someone, supposedly Primrose had draped across my legs and bolted for the door; I didn't care if it was snowing. That wasn't important. The Everdeens and Peeta were no-where to be seen. Good. As much as I thanked them for their considerate accommodation, I didn't have the time to explain myself. I was glad I was alone; after all, I had always felt alone since the Games.<p>

My plans had changed. I couldn't stay here any longer. My original intention had been to find Katniss and Peeta - two people I knew had experienced the same troubles I had during the Games, but I was wrong. The sight of them only brought back the terrible memories of my past I so longed to forget.

Besides, what on earth was I supposed to do here, in Twelve? Just blend into the background as a regular citizen, in endless hiding from the Peacekeepers who would not rest until my hide was hung upon the walls of their homes? No. I would run to the edges of Panem and back if I had to. I couldn't stay here, confined to the prison-like environments of the Capitol-controlled Districts, running from the Peacekeepers in a sick game of Cat-And-Mouse. I would take my chance and use the survival skills I drew from the Games, fleeing into the woods. Any sane person would have called me crazy. But my mind had never been the same after the Hunger Games and I knew it.

I slipped and slid upon the icy road of the Victor's Village, wondering if I could escape to somewhere new, somewhere away from all of the District's of Panem and away from the Capitol's Games. I reached the electric fence on the edge of the forest…surely it was not buzzing with electricity. Peeta must've scaled this fence when he brought me back to Katniss' house, so it didn't cross my mind when my palms closed around the rusted metal. But as I felt the electrifying current burn my palms, flowing through my veins, numbing my nerves and tracing my spine, I knew something was wrong. I felt to the ground, feeling once again like I was in the arena, my back aching from a combined mixture of the snow seeping through my jacket and the lingering ache of the current in my spine.

A pair of twin Peacekeepers loomed over me, appearing like pale ghosts before my very eyes, their bone-white uniforms in poor contrast with the sky, which was fit to burst with snow. My body was limp and I knew this time, death really was upon me, and no sheath of arrows could save me this time. Not even Peeta Mellark could lift my body from the ground and carry me to safety. My spine gave a twisted jerk and I became still, the smug smile on the Peacekeeper's face that so greatly resembled the one Jaspar wore that final day in the arena the last thing I would ever lay eyes upon…

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><p><strong><em>Hope you enjoyed reading! That's officially it now, Tributes! I really hope you've enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Remember to leave a review if you can.<em>**

**_RavenclawCookie_**


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